


One Day at a Time

by Diabeticgirl4



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Depression, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Post-Kerberos Mission, Pre-Canon, keith doesn't know how to cope with shiro's disappearance, what an accurate tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 15:39:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13860810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diabeticgirl4/pseuds/Diabeticgirl4
Summary: “How am I supposed to help you if I can’t even help myself?”A brief look into Keith's time staying in the desert shack after hearing news of the Kerberos mission failure. He doesn't seem to be coping very well.





	One Day at a Time

**Author's Note:**

> Me, projecting my depression and passing it as a voltron fanfic? It's more likely than you think. 
> 
> Anyways uhh I was feeling pretty bad the other day, and thought about the time when Keith lived in that shack pre-series. Feelings ensued.

Keith woke up to the sun shining in his face. Groaning, he glanced at the clock- 10:23am- then turned around to fall back asleep. _Just... a few more hours_.

It had been a week since he heard news of the Kerberos mission failing. A week since he got himself kicked out of the Galaxy Garrison. A week since he holed himself up in this old, rusty shack in the middle of the desert. _Shiro's_ old, rusty shack in the middle of the desert. It had technically belonged to Shiro’s family, but he and Shiro were the only ones to use it growing up. Well, now it was just him.

He had been filled with white-hot fury when he first heard the news. _No. Shiro was the best pilot at the Garrison, and Dr. Holt was among the smartest and most respected staff. There was no way it was pilot error!_ He confronted Iverson that same day, yelling and screaming and letting all his anger boil over. Iverson threatened him with expulsion- or worse- if he didn't calm down and leave the subject alone, so he left and never looked back (but not before decking him in the face, like he deserved).

So he went to the only place he could think of: Shiro’s desert shack. He was determined to do everything he could to figure out the mystery of Shiro’s disappearance, but the moment he entered the shack- for the first time in what felt like years- all the furious energy in him had simply left him. He was no longer angry, but tired. So tired of everything.

That was a week ago.

Sleep obviously not returning, Keith eventually move into a sitting-up position on the couch and started rubbing the cricks out of his neck. Sure, the large bed in the single room would have been more comfortable to sleep in, but that was Shiro’s room. He couldn't even look in that direction.

He was so tired.

Keith sighed deeply, wondering what he should do for that day. He hadn't done much since he had moved in the shack- mostly slept and felt bad for himself, but he kept telling himself he just needed to gather his thoughts and form a plan.

That had been a week ago.

_Just one day at a time, Keith. You got this._ He could almost hear Shiro’s encouraging voice. He shook his head.

He could go get local maps to help with the gathered information he already had, but that would require going to the closest city shop and interacting with people. That... wasn't going to be an option today. All he wanted to do was sleep. 

He finally stood up, swayed a bit before regaining his balance, then immediately moved to close the window curtains. Now the room was almost as dark as his thoughts. He nearly chuckled at the thought, but caught himself. Shiro never did appreciate his snarky attitude and dark humor.

His stomach grumbled, and he paused in mild surprise. When was the last time he ate something? Food didn't sound the slightest appealing to him at the moment, but he could already hear Shiro’s voice nagging him to eat something, to take care of himself. He paused again, sniffing at the air, and then at himself. ...When was the last time he _bathed_?

The shower in the shack was small, but he was thankful for the privacy- he hated the communal showers at the Garrison. He turned on the water as hot as it would go, and stepped in. The water was hotter than expected- another thing the Garrison didn't have- but the scalding pain felt oddly nice against his skin. It gave him something to focus on, to _feel_ against the overwhelming numbness he felt otherwise.

Only after the water eventually lost its heat did Keith realize how much time he spent in there. He cursed under his breath; he didn't even get around to washing himself like he intended to. He just stood under the scalding water for the entire duration. He really couldn't do anything right, could he?

He grabbed the first clothes he saw, slipping them on and moving for his jacket before realizing they were the same grimy clothes from his last outing. They weren't exactly filthy- sure they were wrinkly and had a few stains here and there, but wearing those after (semi) cleaning himself for the first time in a week? He put the jacket on anyways and sighed in defeat. _What did it matter? He was already a mess._

His stomach growled again, reminding him of his apparent hunger. The kitchen still held canned food, right? He really didn't want to go out just to get food he wasn't hungry for.

He rummaged through the pantry and pulled out a can of… mixed vegetables? He shrugged; it’ll do. He searched the drawers for a can opener, but came up empty. Another sigh. He mentally added “can opener”, along with local maps, to a shopping list for the next time he felt capable of venturing outside the shack. Luckily, he always had his blade on him, which more or less got the job done. He found a spoon, and proceeded to _chew, chew, swallow.  Chew… chew… swallow.  Chew......   chew.........    Swallow._  He sighed and set the can down.  His stomach grumbled, not yet satisfied from the few bites he ate, but Keith couldn’t finish eating. It didn't taste like anything, anyways.

All he could think about was Shiro somewhere lost in space (or worse), and since the Garrison didn’t seem to care enough about finding him, that meant it was all up to Keith.  Except all he could do was sleep in late, mope around, and barely succeed in taking care of himself. Shiro would be disappointed in him. Except Shiro wasn’t there.

_Shiro_...

 

Something suddenly snapped in Keith, and the white-hot fury was back in an instant. He let out a yell and threw the can of vegetables against the wall, leaving green and orange mush sliding down the wall. Somewhere in the back of his head Keith knew he would eventually have to clean that up, but the thought was quickly swallowed by his anger.  He pounded his fists against the counter, letting out more enraged yells.

“It’s-” _pound_ “not-” _pound_ “fair!” He yelled to the open room.

“It was supposed to be a simple mission! They keep saying it was a pilot error, but you wouldn’t let anything go wrong, I know you! You’re the best there is!”

Keith stalked around the room, looking for more items to take his frustration out on. An open water bottle ( _splash_ , water soaking the walls), an old dinner plate (he didn’t flinch as it shattered into pieces). It didn’t make him feel any better. If anything, it proved how much of a mess he was without Shiro. He hated it.

“What happened to you, Shiro?  Where are you?” Keith was slowing down. The furious energy that had fired him up moments earlier was slipping away, and it left him more tired than he was before. He sank to the floor, gasping for breath, and balled his fists in his hair. _He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t-_

_He didn’t cry when he first heard the news, and he wouldn’t cry now._

 

“I need you Shiro,” Keith whispered, voice trembling.

 

He choked back a sob.

 

 

“How am I supposed to help you if I can’t even help myself?”

**Author's Note:**

> (someone please give this boy a hug)


End file.
